Snape and Hermione: Adventures in Wonderland
by OzGeek
Summary: Found this languishing on my hard disk 5 chapters in all. Hermione finds a portkey to a Slytherin puzzle world and Snape must help her return. Appologise to NCIS fans, not a McGee in sight. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

She had never seen anything like it before. An exquisite vase of gold and red simmering on its pedestal; it ached to be touched. As she gently extended her hand she was vaguely aware of the sound of hurried footsteps echoing in the corridor.

"Do not touch that, Miss Granger," a voice commanded.

But the pull was so strong she barely paused. Basking in its almost ethereal glow, she made to stroke its impossibly smooth sides.

The pounding of footsteps was nearer, the voice more urgent.

"I said, do NOT touch that!"

Her hand was grasped the moment she made her first exquisite contact.

And then there was the all too familiar pulling at her navel and the plunge into darkness accompanied, unusually, by a fairly violent expletive that seemed aimed in her direction.

Landing with an ignominious thud on mercifully soft ground, she was just about to congratulate herself on such an expert landing when she was promptly bowled over by a black-robed man approximately twice her weight. They rolled clumsily for a minute, accompanied by said vase until they regained both their footings and their composures.

"I said 'DO NOT TOUCH THAT', Miss Granger!" Snape panted. "Why do students think I say things like that? Do you think I am an art lover? DO NOT TOUCH THAT! How hard can it be?"

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said meekly eyeing the now rather plain looking vase on the ground between them. "I just couldn't help myself."

"Could you not sense that it was a portkey? Can you not you feel it? See it? It has portkey written all over it in large shiny letters. I can never understand how students fall for these things, surely it's obvious."

"Greasy git," she mumbled under her breath.

"Pardon," he flashed.

"I said," she said distinctly, "that you have a GIFT. A gift for detecting portkeys and perhaps you should not be so harsh on those of us who have not."

He glared at her for an instant and then seemed to recover himself. "Do you know where we are, Miss Granger?"

"Ahh, no. Should I?"

"Apparently not."

"It's a trap, isn't it?" She was working her way up to full panic. "A trap by him; He-who-will-not-be-named. He's trying to get to Harry through me, isn't he?"

"Are you quite finished?" He drawled, cutting her off mid-stride.

She paused, teary eyed and breathless.

"What is it about you Gryffindors that makes you think you are the center of the universe? Do you think the Dark Lord brought himself back from the brink of death just to play sport with you? Don't you think, just perhaps, that rebuilding his old force to full strength before taking on a formidable enemy might take precedence over, say, for example, sending you on… a… little…trip?"

The lecture petered out with a hiss and he paused to let his wisdom sink in before continuing in a more reasonable manner.

"This portkey, Miss Granger, is a little practical joke that a certain one of my charges saw fit to place in an out-of-bounds area."

"I'm sorry, almost none of that made any sense at all."

He sighed wearily. "Miss Granger, what DO Gryffindors do for recreation? Fun if you will?"

"Study, read…."

"Other Gryffindors."

"Oh, well wizard chess I suppose, the odd bizarre transformation, quidditch…why?"

"Well, in the more intellectually stimulating world of Slytherin, we set little mind puzzles for one another. Sort of, defines the pecking order, if you will. The old portkey," he waved his bony hand in the general direction of the vase, "is a simple one, usually aimed at the unwary first year but the rules are the same for all: in Slytherin territory only. This little treasure was placed in a Gryffindor corridor expressly against the rules of the game."

"Was it Malfoy?" she asked keenly.

"No it wasn't!" He was getting exasperated; "More Gryffindor logic! Do you know how many students there are in Slytherin? You do realise that there are people with whom you are not personally acquainted who still manage to exist none-the-less."

"Yes." Her response was unnecessary and dangerously tearful.

"This is getting us nowhere," he snapped, "I haven't been caught by one of these since I was in first year, and then only once. There was a standard chant to find the path to the exit portkey, if I recall."

He stood for a moment, lost in thought. Then he pulled out his wand and held it loosely between his thumb and forefinger allowing it to swing freely. Slowly he began a low chant Hermione could not recognise, circling slowly. He stopped abruptly.

"Oh damn. Nice touch; but damn. I am going to kill that boy when I get back," he mumbled to himself.

"What is it, sir?" she asked.

"What?" he said distractedly. "Oh, one of the nicer add-on extras to a portkey puzzle is to slowly drain the victim of energy; magical and otherwise. The more spells you do, the weaker you become, the more physical exertion, the weaker you become, the longer you stay trapped, the weaker you become. The idea is you are less able to cause permanent damage to the perpetrator when you get out. The good news, for you, Miss Granger, is the stronger you are, the faster your energy goes. You never lose it all because the loss slows as you grow weaker."

"Is it permanent?"

"Not usually." Then he added in a dangerous tone; "not if the student wishes to graduate."

He strode off. "Do not touch anything and try not to exert yourself."


	2. The Pit

Hermione trotted after her rapidly receding potions professor. The physical exertion necessary to keep within visual range of her guide was threatening to kill her. For his part, Snape seemed unperturbed by the energy sapping environment and was intent on his wand 'divining rod' as it waved gently to and fro.

Finally, Hermione just had to rest and she dumped herself unceremoniously on the ground in a crumpled mass. As she began to recover, she lifted her head and took stock of her surroundings. The scene was vaguely woodland-like but littered with mysterious shapes – balls, cones, pyramids. Some glowed, some reflected, some seemed so black she wondered if they absorbed light. One of them had the same compelling 'touch me' call of the original vase but she was not as silly as to ignore Snape's warning.

What made the place seem unreal, she decided, was the absence of depth of field. It was just one long corridor and there was nothing beyond the first line of trees. It's constructed seemed designed to guide you down a set path over which the game's designer had some control. She was still contemplating this when Snape appeared from over a ridge.

"Would you mind telling me what you are doing, Miss Grainger?" He hissed, "I have a potions class to give this afternoon and I would appreciate a little haste on your part."

"I'm sorry, sir," she started, "I ran out of energy and simply had to rest. You do realise that my legs are half the length of yours? I just couldn't keep up."

"Well, you've rested now so I'd advise you to get back on your feet and keep up as I won't be coming back a second time."

She leapt to her feet with an abundance of energy that surprised her. This resting thing had a lot going for it. "Ok, lead on."

"This particular puzzle is path based," Snape explained as they walked.

She was pleased to note that he had slowed to a pace she could match. Or maybe he couldn't go any faster. Either way, they were able to walk together.

"There are a series of trials before you reach the end, usually they are fear based in some way so whatever it is you're most afraid of, I suspect you'll meet it sometime on our little journey."

"What about your fears?" Hermione asked, worriedly.

He shot her a dirty look.

"Oh, right, sorry."

"Fear uses energy; try not to give into it. Try not to use magic to overcome the fearful situation as magic will drain you faster than the fear itself. Are you taking notes, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The spell on my wand will keep us pointed in the general direction of the portkey. I will use it mainly to select one path when we are faced with many."

They rounded a curve and Hermione became aware that the walls either side were hemming them into a narrow path.

"Looks like we're coming up on our first trial," Snape announced. "Just remember it's all an illusion."

They came to an abrupt halt at a pit full of assorted crawly creatures.

"I hate bugs," Hermione muttered.

"Fancy that," Snape retorted. "Just visualise some horrid little Slytherin boy making toy crawlies to scare you and don't give him the satisfaction."

With that he plunged into the pit. Hermione watched him in horror, as he waded though the sea of creatures. It was only moments before he was waist deep. Some of the little blighters were venturing up his arms; there was even one on his head.

Snape turned to her. "Care to join me?"

"No, no that's disgusting," she shuddered, "It's just creepy."

"Ah well, it is a trap for the weak of spirit," Snape gloated, bugs peeling off him as he emerged on other side of the pit.

"I am not weak," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Then prove it," he snarled folding his arms expectantly.

She took a deep breath. Then another breath. She counted to three. Then she took another breath.

"Potions class, Miss Granger, I can't wait all day."

She was in and sinking fast. Panic surged but she closed her eyes and fought it. Ploughing her way through, trying not to think about the crawling sensation over her body, she could feel the creatures up to her arm pits. Then she was up to her neck. She chanced to open her eyes and froze; Snape still looked so far away. Tears threatened and she felt bugs tickling around her month.

"Perhaps you were wrongly sorted into Gryffindor, after all," Snape sneered, "Perhaps Chickendore? I'll send someone back for your body shall I?"

Anger burned through her and she did something she never thought she'd do: she swam. She swam in a sea of bugs until she finally felt the ground under her feet. Then she ran, as fast as she could, her hands frantically wiping every bug from her body.

She did not even hear Snape murmured "well, done Miss Granger."

He caught up with her some distance along the path where she sat panting and whimpering. He heaved himself into a sitting position in front of her and gave his wand a cursory check.

"There may be a few more of those on the way," he warned, "so I'd be prepared."

"Oh excellent," she grumbled.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I've been thinking," Hermonine said suddenly, "that the teaching atmosphere at this school would be greatly enhanced if the students and teachers called each other by their first names. It happens at Muggle schools."

"We do," he replied acidly. "My first name is Professor but I am also known by my nickname: Sir. Any more inane conversation or can we be getting on?"


	3. Rock climbing

Snape invoked his path finding spell again. They were standing at a five way intersection with equally spaced paths radiating from a single point. Hermione was not impressed with his choice of path; it seemed rather steep and she did not relish the thought of a brisk uphill walk. She was even less impressed when rocks started appearing; then boulders. Before she knew it, she was staring at an enormous cliff. Exactly how tall the cliff was, she couldn't say as the designer only seemed to have invoked a small vertical window on his design.

She sighed resolutely and began to climb. Far up ahead, she could see Snape picking his way carefully though the rocks, his black cape flowing. He paused to check on her progress.

"I am sure, you are keen to be getting back to class, Miss Granger," he called.

"Yes sir."

The rocks seemed to be getting larger with each layer. She supposed the designer was going for increased difficultly with no actual regard for the laws of physics. The rocks became so large, in fact, that she suddenly found she could not physically scale them.

She allowed herself a brief moment of panic before calming down. She checked on Snape's position; he was not too high above her yet, though due to the contracted vertical window he appeared to have been decapitated.

"Ahh, Professor Snape," she began uncertainly.

He paused and looked down on her in annoyance, "Yes, Miss Granger."

"I'm afraid I simply can not climb this rock."

"What!"

She swallowed hard but continued steadily. "I'm just too short."

He closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment muttering something she was rather glad she hadn't caught.

Slowly he clambered down a couple of layers and bent down, offering her his hand.

"I am sure, this will get your girlish heart all a flutter, Miss Granger," he sneered.

She steeled herself and then took his hand only to slip and fall back to her original position.

"As much as I am sure you desire to hold my hand, the weakest of trapeze artists will inform you that a wrist to wrist hold is far more secure."

Ignoring his snide remark, she took a deep breath and reached up again, this time grasping his wrist. She felt his bony fingers clamp firmly around hers and with one smooth movement, she was on top of the rock.

"Thank you, Sir," she breathed.

But he was already evaluating the next layer.

"And how are you going to manage this one, Miss Granger?"

She looked up at the shear surface of the enormous boulder. When she looked back, he already had his hands ready to boost her up. Silently, she placed her foot in his hands and tried to climb with no more physical contact than absolutely necessary.

Soon they were working as a team: pushing, pulling and steadying each other, wordlessly working their way up the seemingly endless mountain. Hermione grew accustomed to the feel of his hands on her body, his breathing in her ear and his smell in her nostrils.

The routine was such that she was genuinely surprised when she popped her head over the top of a boulder to find they had reached a plateau. She bent down to help Snape negotiate the final obstacle and saw his eyebrows rise as he, too, realised this trial was over.

Hermione sat down hard letting out a sigh. Snape dumped himself inches from her. In any ordinary situation, he would have been imposing on her personal space but they had been sharing the one space for so long on their arduous climb, their sense of scale had yet to return.

She lay down with a groan. The last thing she heard was Snape's voice saying "don't you dare go to sleep."

"Damn," Snape thought, "she's fallen asleep".

He turned, raising his right arm with the intention of rousing her but was overcome by a surge of dizziness and dropped like a stone to her side, his arm falling heavily across her stomach.

* * *

Hermione awoke refreshed but with two strange sensations: Firstly, there was a heavy band across her stomach and secondly, someone was breathing on her face. Neither was pleasant. She opened her eyes and looked straight into the slumbering face of her potions master not two inches from her. He was breathing deeply, puffing out air from his cheeks onto her face.

"Professor?" she said quietly. Then she changed her mind. Waking him in this position was probably not a good idea.

Carefully she lifted the leaden arm from her stomach and placed it between them. Holding her breath, she slowly raised herself to sit cross legged.

'"Much better", she thought, "a position of power not a position of 'Snape's teddy bear' ".

"Professor!" she tried much more forcefully.

No response. Or was that a snore starting? That was a step in the wrong direction. She reached out and shook his shoulder.

"Professor Snape!."

He came awake with an exaggerated snort and rolled onto his back staring up at her with glazed black eyes under hooded lids.

"Professor?" she started.

"I thought I told you not to go to sleep," he growled.

"Excuse me?"

"You were sleeping, Miss Granger, we will never escape from this wretched trap if you insist on these unnecessary rest stops."

"But Sir, you.."

"Silence!" He struggled inelegantly to a sitting position. "We have wasted enough time."

He staggered to his feet and stared down at her, swaying as he did.

"Are you coming, Miss Granger?" he hissed trying to stalk in a straight line but ending up veering slightly to the left.

Hermione rose slowly shaking her head. She was either going to laugh, or kill him. She hadn't decided yet.


	4. The Bridge

Hermione steeled herself as the path narrowed again. Then she saw it: stretching out before her was a long, thin suspension bridge spanning a seemingly bottomless chasm. Bottomless in that the designer had not bothered to actually add a bottom. The bridge had been implausibly constructed from rickety wooden planks strung together with thick harsh rope. The same rope formed a rudimentary handrail. In a real world situation it would have failed any engineering inspection.

"There must be some mistake," she said in confusion. "I have no fear of heights, bridges, wooden constructions," she waved her hands grandly, "any of this."

She stopped abruptly as her eyes came to rest on Snape; arms crossed, lips pressed together in annoyance.

"Wow, you must have one huge Bogart."

"This is not the form my Bogart takes," he snapped irritably. "I would advise you to cross first."

"What will happen to me?"

"You? Nothing."

"What about you?"

"There are times, Miss Granger," he sighed wearily, "when it is prudent to 'take a fall', as it were."

Her eyes travelled from his face to the ravine below and back. She swallowed hard.

"Do you think you could teach me that spell?" she asked cautiously.

He regarded her levelly for a moment, and her heart pounded in her throat. He might be a greasy old git but he was first a foremost a teacher, and a pragmatist.

"I suppose that could be of benefit," he conceded, finally.

Learning the chant was not nearly as difficult as she had feared. It was based on a rather childish song she remembered her mother singing to her as a child – 'show me the way to go home', only with a few variations and in Latin.

When she was convinced she had it, she stood confidently, held her wand loosely and began her chant. Her wand obligingly spun and pointed over the bridge. The smug smile that spread across her face evaporated as she caught Snape's glare.

"Happy now?" he growled.

"Ah, yes, I ah think so."

"Cross the bridge." It was not a debate.

"Right. Fine."

Hermione turned to face the enormous structure. The bridge's feeble attempts to sway menacingly did little but muss her hair slightly and in no time she was standing on firm ground.

Staring back at the other end, she could see Snape curling his top lip in agitation. She watched as he stepped onto the bridge, one hand holding his wand, the other grasping the rope handrail. The bridge swayed enthusiastically as he walked and small planks began braking off in his wake. When he failed to budge, the ropes holding worn planks began to untwine slowly. As he reached the mid-point, the handrail spontaneously sprang apart and she watched in alarm as he plunged into the chasm wearing a look of extreme annoyance.

Hermione stood in stunned silence watching him disappear beyond the vertical limits of the game. She waited for the thud she knew would not come; silence. Maybe he was still falling. She stood motionless for a few minutes expecting something to happen.

Nothing.

She wandered slowly down the lonely path. The scenery jerked from one scene to another in a rather crude fashion: forest, deserts, beaches. She could swear some of the images were under-sampled. Obviously, this designer had no interested in nature; or realism.

The only constant was the shiny geometrical objects. Every now and again, she would see one that shone so brightly that she found herself unconsciously drawn towards it and every time, she would hear Snape's voice in her ears warning her not to touch and she would veer back to the path.

She jumped at sound of something large and decidedly squishy hitting the ground somewhere in up ahead but beyond her visual range. She froze solid, listening intently; there was no sound. Two steps later, a small black blob appeared on the horizon. As she approached, the blob began to take shape. It seemed to be a large black crumpled tent sitting in the middle of a three way intersection. The tent moved and she instinctively flicked out her wand.

"Put it away Miss Granger before you do something we both regret."

"Oh, Professor," she cried, "I thought you had disappeared."

"Regrettably, no," he sighed in frustration, "I am going to miss that potions class, I hope Albus doesn't take it upon himself to teach it."

"Well, we'd better keep moving," she noted chanting confidently.

The wand swung decisively. Hermione allowed herself a self-congratulatory smile and she headed off down the path. It was then she noticed she was alone.

"Professor?" She looked back to see he was still hunched on the ground.

"In a minute, Miss Granger; I have lost a certain amount of energy in that fall and require a little recovery time."

In a flash, she was at his side crouching to peer into his face. That it was pale and drawn, there was no question but the most starting part was how white his lips were. Now she looked more closely, there was a greenish tinge to his face she had never seen before.

"You don't look well, Sir."

"Thank you Dr Granger," he growled, "the term is faint and if I attempt to stand, I suspect that is what I will in fact do."

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself to ask the question that had been gnawing at her for quite some time.

"Sir, I have been thinking," she started uncertainly, "could you describe what these portkeys look like to you."

There was a moment when she thought he was going to say something snide but when he lifted his pale face, something akin to comprehension was dawning.

"You've seen it, haven't you? It's a Gryffindor trap, not a Slytherin one." He took a dangerously heavy swallow and lowered his head.

"I am guessing that too. Are they a sort of shiny gold with a shimmer around the outside edge?"

"And the word PORTKEY emblazoned across the front in iridescent colours. Yes, why? Have you seen one?"

"Well, lots actually," she was slightly embarrassed, "but you were very specific in your do not touch policy, so I ignored them."

He groaned. He began the motion to look up at her reproachfully but thought better of it and retreated to his original position.

"Can you see one now?" His voice was getting more strained.

Hermione looked around the sea of brightly shining geometrical shapes in wonder. They had been calling to her all this time and she had steadfastly ignored them.

"Yes. Several in fact, Isn't that interesting?"

"Not as much as you would think."

"They're really quite beautiful," she breathed, "I think I'll always recognise them now."

"Are you planning utilise this vast knowledge or are you just admiring the scenery?"

"Oh, right. Sorry," she said meekly.

Hermione rose quickly and walked to the nearest shining thing she could see; a ball as it happened. Undoing the clasp of her robe she wrapped he object securely and brought it back to where Snape was sitting.

"OK, we're set."

She placed the ball carefully on the ground and turned to face him squarely.

"Now," she lectured, "I am going to hold your hand. Not, I stress, out of girlish delight, but because I don't trust you to keep or even make contact without losing consciousness."

She grasped his ice-cold hand firmly.

"OK, let's go."

She flipped the robe off the ball and counted to three. Then she stopped.

"How much does this person hate Gryffindors, precisely?"

"Quite a lot, why?" he whispered.

"I just wonder exactly where we are going to end up, that's all."

With that, she touched the ball and they were off.


	5. Home again

For fleeting moment when Hermione caught a glimpse of Hogwarts castle, she thought everything was going to be all right. Then reality came crashing back as she landed on an outcrop of jagged rocks. One leg slipped between two boulders as she materialised, twisting agonisingly.

When the blinding pain began to subside, she realised she still had Snape's hand in her own. She smothered the hysterical laugh that threatened.

"Professor," she called through gritted teeth, "are you alright?"

Silence.

For one horrible moment she thought his hand had become detached during the trip but a quick tug betrayed an accompanying heavy weight.

"Professor, can you hear me?" she pleaded. She did not expect an answer, and she was rewarded with its absence.

The pain in her leg faded to a dull ache. A cautious attempted to move it resulted in a sharp jolt of pain causing her to reconsider her actions. She stilled her breathing and listened. Faintly, she heard the welcome sound of Snape breathing. At least he was still alive. All she could do now was wait; hold his hand and wait.

Time ground past her at an agonisingly slow pace. The oppressive silence was studded occasionally with sudden and completely unrecognisable sounds. Each causing her to grasp Snape's lifeless hand with vigour. Finally, she heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

"Professor," she called out urgently, "can you hear me?"

For a moment there was no sound and then came a quiet "Miss Granger?"

"Oh thank heaven. Are you hurt?"

The hand was withdrawn. There was a sound of clothing scraping over stone and his head peered over the top of a rock above her head. He still looked appalling but he was moving and conscious and that would have to be enough for now.

He took a slow blink and then his mind seemed to click into gear. "I seem to be in once piece, except for this hand."

"Sorry, my fault."

"I have crescent shaped cuts extending an inch into my skin," he said incredulously. "What on earth have you been up to?"

"Well, I just…..just got scared every now and again and I needed reassurance that I wasn't trapped here entirely alone."

"So you thought you would render me anaemic to pass the time? Wonderful. Now, how far are you trapped?"

She had braced herself for a barrage of insults and was rather surprised that the topic had moved on to her own well-being.

"I think my leg has been pretty much torn apart by my entrance. The good news is: I got a glimpse of Hogwarts just before I fell in here. It's not far."

Snape looked up carefully. "Yes, I see it." Then he looked down at her doubtfully. "Let me have a look at that leg".

Clambouring unsteadily over the rocks, he crouched beside her. "Well and truly jammed." He heaved a resigned sigh. "Well, let see how much I have left in me."

He fumbled with his wand and gave it an experimental swipe.

"Accio rocks," he murmured.

The rocks wobbled slightly.

"OK," he grumbled to himself, "once more with feeling: Accio rocks."

The rocks parted briefly and he whisked her from their grasp.

Hermione screamed like she had never screamed before as the circulation returned full force to the shattered remains of her leg. In a moment Snape had conjured up some form of splint and had swept her up in his arms. He staggered across the rocks and found firm ground.

The next few minutes were a blur of pain. A red haze obscured her vision and breathing seemed an insurmountable challenge. She wished she could take some comfort from the fact that he was carrying her towards the castle gate but in truth, he was so unsteady, she doubted they would make the distance unscathed.

Then they were staggering through the infirmary door and she was unceremoniously dumped on a stretcher-like bed. A fresh bout of pain seared through her leg and she was vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey sweeping up the infirmary towards her.

Moments later the pain was evaporating and she could see Madam Promfrey fusing about over her leg muttering something about spiral fractures. Looking up she saw her ashen-faced professor leaning with his back to the wall, hands on his thighs, eye closed, head down, breathing harshly.

"That's the bone done but I'll have to get something for the bruising," Madam Pomfey muttered to herself. "Oh, good grief, Serverus, lie down before you fall down."

Snape raised his eye to meet hers but made no attempt to move.

"For goodness sake," in two strides she was beside him guiding him to the bed opposite Hermoine's. His knees buckled as he sat.

"Lie down."

"I'm fine," he growled.

"Fine! Fine. Just don't expect me to waste my energy, or my poor back hoisting you onto that bed when you hit the floor."

She grasped his hair with one hand and shoved his head firmly between his knees.

"Now stay there while I get some bruise reduction ointment," she warned.

For a moment there was no sound other than Snape's rather tortured gasps then Madam Pomfrey bustled down the corridor once more carrying a small tub of cream.

"Right, the headmaster is on his way and then you two can start explaining what you have been up to all day."

She stopped short as Snape fell forward off the bed onto the floor with a resounding thud that seemed to shake the entire building.

"Oh really, Serverus," she diverted her route to him, "I did warn you."

Leaning over his tortured frame she considered where to start. A wave of her wand and the tremors subsided. Another wave and his breathing calmed to a steady rhythm. Although he still looked as though he were knocking on death's door with a personalised invitation, Hermione was more confident he would live through the night. His eyes cracked open revealing uncomprehending glassy black pools. He blinked long elongated blinks as he alternated between the conscious and unconscious worlds.

Madam Pomprey paused as she bent over him. Straightening, she approached Hermione's bed cautiously.

"Did he hurt you in any way dear?" She whispered urgently.

"What? No, of course not, why would you think that?"

"Well it's just that there are fingernail marks in his palm."

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," came Snape's weak voice from the floor, "your pathetic insecurities have resulted in me being labelled a paedophile." He rolled onto his back with a groan, raising his knees. "I note you didn't stop to think that she had attacked me."

"Really, now Serverus, she's such a wee thing."

"Check out the talons."

"Apart from that," she started applying the cream to Hermione's leg with a little too much vigour. "Anyway, I had to ask – student and teacher off for the day alone. We've searched the whole school from top to bottom. Albus had to give your potions class."

Snape moaned.

"I wasn't that bad," came Dumbledore's cheerful voice from the door. "What are you doing on the floor, dear boy, we have a ward full of costly empty beds?"

"We paedophiles are not worth wasting the energy on, apparently. Besides, I'm sure the floor cost more than the beds."

"Quite possibly," agreed Dumbledore.

With a quick flick of his wand Snape was airborne, the bed flew under him and he was down again with an "umph". If not settled comfortably, at least no longer underfoot. There was very little space for the headmaster's legs as he perched on the edge of Hermione's bed.

"Now I want to know exactly what happened," he began to Snape then he wheeled on Hermione, "but first, how are you Hermione? You look like you have done some damage to that leg."

"Oh its fine now, Madam Pomfrey is a miracle worker. I just got in caught in the rocks when the portkey brought us back…"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "From the beginning, I believe, rather than the end. Serverus, feel free to elaborate at any time."

There was no answer.

"Serverus?" he turned and Hermione could see that Snape was sound asleep, snoring gently. "Apparently, it has been a rather long day, even without the potions class".

He flicked out his wand again and Snape's bed shot back to its original position where Madam Pomfrey was waiting. From her pocket, she drew out a small pot and slowly and methodically began to massage the cream into the deep cuts.

"He's lost a lot of magical energy," she half whispered to Dumbledore, "he's absolutely exhausted."

"I know I felt it when I walked in," said Dumbledore sombrely. "Time and rest, should do the trick. Oh and some of this."

Hermione felt a small vibration coming from the old man's body. She could almost swear she heard humming.

"Albus," chided madam Pomprey gently, "He'd be so annoyed if he knew."

"Just a little," said Dumbledore mischievously, "he needs it and I'm sure he'll hardly notice."

"What are you doing, Sir?" asked Hermione.

"Just recharging his batteries, a little," replied Dumbledore.

"What he's not telling you," said Madam Pomprey rising and putting a lid on the cream, "is that it transfers not only magical energy but also personality. You'll know he's gone too far when Serverus starts offering lemon drops in class."

Hermione giggled.

"Now, from the beginning if you would, Miss Granger."

Hermione began her story.

* * *

It was early morning sometime, Hermione judged, from the light and the occasional chirping of small birds outside the window. She rose silently from her bed and pulled back the curtains. The ward was empty. Across the hall, she saw the other ward, reserved for teachers or particularly infectious patients had one occupant also. She padded across the floor and slowly pulled back the curtains.

He was still there, lying on his side in an exhausted sleep, oblivious to the world. For a moment she held her breath and then she crept forward to plant a light kiss on his forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered, and crept silently back to her bed.

A small smile wavered on his lips before it dissolved again to the demands of sleep.


End file.
